


I'm A Computer, Not A Domestic Goddess

by CandyMonroe



Category: Iron Man (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Clint teaches Jarvis to be a housewife, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Jarvis controls the armour, Jarvis is not a domestic goddess, Sentient Armour - Freeform, Sick!Tony, Tony has no idea what's happening
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-01-03
Updated: 2014-01-05
Packaged: 2018-01-07 07:47:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,906
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1117345
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CandyMonroe/pseuds/CandyMonroe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>One where Tony is seriously hurt after a battle and despite Jarvis's protestations, he puts the Tower into lockdown and refuses medical attention because he doesn't want to be seen. Jarvis takes it upon himself to use the Mark XLII armour himself and be an aid for Tony whilst he's getting better.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Part One

**Author's Note:**

> Written for this prompt on avengerskink: http://avengerkink.livejournal.com/17613.html?thread=41313741#t41313741
> 
> One where Tony is seriously hurt after a battle and despite Jarvis's protestations, he puts the Tower into lockdown and refuses medical attention because he doesn't want to be seen. Jarvis takes it upon himself to use the Mark 42 armour himself and be an aid for Tony whilst he's getting better.
> 
> Not exactly slash, more like Jarvis has increased feelings for Tony throughout his AI life time of protecting him.
> 
> +1 if the armour tries to cook and clean  
> +10 if the armour helps him in things such as showering, brushing teeth, general hygiene  
> +100 if the armour tucks Tony into bed and attempts to "kiss" his forehead as goodnight like a Mum  
> +1000 if the armour (in true Mark 42 style) manages to mess up things a fair bit - and Tony seems to have a constant WTF feeling about the entire experience

 

Silence.

Just...silence.

Tony can hear nothing as he hurtles towards the glass windows of his penthouse in Stark Tower, his vision blurred red with the blood dripping through his eyelashes. He blinks rapidly, trying to clear the blood, sweat and tear mix . His hands are scrabbling uselessly at his helmet, searching for an emergency catch mechanism that seems to have disappeared and he glances down for a moment to see blood dripping out from the  armour  pressing down over his stomach. That's probably not good. The panic sets in, his breath coming short and sharp, barely filling his lungs before he gasps for more. Everything  is fading now, his head becoming foggy and his body starting to droop, only the jolt of Jarvis taking control of the suit keeping him awake and airborne . He  realises only a moment too late that he should have relinquished control sooner as his arm slams into the balcony handrail, flipping him over and propelling him through the reinforced glass. 

The mechanisms catch as Jarvis quickly releases tony from the confines of the suit, forcing him to roll across the ground, the suit slamming hard into the wall opposite, plaster crumbling away and falling to the ground where the suit now lay in pieces.

"Jarvis, lockdown. No one in, no one out. No medical, no Avengers, keep them out." Tony tries desperately, hoping against all odds that the message is received and that Jarvis isn't arguing again as he pulls himself up to a hunched standing position. He shakes his head, wanting the deafening silence to break, wanting to hear the sarcastic tones of his AI system, the sound of glass shattering is even preferable to this. His hand catches the edge of the chair besides him as he almost topples to the ground again, before pushing his barely responsive legs towards the kitchen on his right. With each step, he drops a little more, barely managing to hang onto walls as he moves. His body hits the ground suddenly, his hands fighting with holding onto a painting, dropping the large frame onto himself and he lets out a gargled scream, sobs wrenching from his throat. As his body convulses in pain under the weight, he begins to give up hope. He's dying and with the Tower in lockdown, people might not be able to get him out. Everything is flashing in front of him as his eyes clench shut, and just as his mind slips away, he feels two metal weights below him, lifting him from the ground.

He lets go.

\--------------

The mumble of voices floods though Tony's senses, pulling him away from the blackness that had engulfed him. It felt like he had been stuck in a void for days. His body ached and his head hurt and he didn't want to open his eyes for fear of losing the mild comfort that he was in right now. Despite the pains, he was in a bed with warm weight pressed on various parts of his body, the darkness he was now experiencing was less cold and he felt safe. He lay happily for a few moments, listening to what the voices were saying,  realising that a TV or radio was playing somewhere to his right.

"...has not been seen for days after video footage captured him colliding with the penthouse suite at the top of the Tower. Despite the joint efforts of emergency services and civilians alike, no one has managed to break through to search for Tony Stark.  One ray of hope has been keeping us all calm, where several people have witnessed what appears to be a person, moving along the sides of the Tower, climbing and entering before leaving again a short while later. We can only hope that his reason for repeatedly returning is a good one. Mr Coulson has been waiting around the base of the building, returning daily to ensure the crowds are away but  with no comment for this reporter. Warning systems have caused anyone attempting to enter ..." The news reporter rambles on in the background, Tony wincing a bit at managing to make the headlines again when he could really do without it. Other noises began to filter into his mind and he suddenly sat upright; regretting it immediately he curled back up on the bed, groaning. He could hear again, but the noises coming from the other room weren't necessarily wanted. The clattering of pots and thumps were a tiny bit disconcerting and he attempted to sit up again - slowly, this time.

"Put the lights on, Jarvis." He muttered, slightly shocked at how strained his voice sounded. His throat stung at the attempt to speak and he whimpered ever so slightly as the lights lit up slightly. He noted that they were still dimmed enough to not cause a headache and mentally thanked Jarvis for actually being slightly considerate. As he took in his surroundings he realised that the warm weights upon him were various white towels, soaked with water and pressing on various injuries. Some were stained red and the water was cold, but some were warm and barely pink and Tony tensed. Someone was here, clearly someone was here. He was going to donate Jarvis. He had trusted Jarvis, programmed him to think only on Tony's protection and yet he'd ignored orders!

He pauses, taking a deep breath  and moving to stand up.  That's when he notices the catheter and the IV line. Seriously, Jarvis is going to pay for letting someone in. Without hesitation, he reached down, tugging the catheter out and screaming as it ripped through him. His hand drifted down to hold his crotch in pain, snarling at his mistake. It comes up covered in blood and he pushes himself out of the bed, stumbling as he stands, the IV falling from his arm with a gentle pull. His head spins and his stomach churns and he vomits all over the carpet before tripping forward, landing with his hands in the offending mess. The towels surround him and he rolls onto his back, sitting up and using them to clean himself before dropping them and covering the water-based puddle on the floor.

He forces himself to his feet again, not giving his body time to recover, and barely managing to hold back the next wave of nausea. The thudding carries on outside his room and he stumbles his way to the doorway as quick as he can before falling forwards to grab at the frame with both hands, his arms nearly giving way at holding his entire weight. He needs to move closer to the noises, if not to break Jarvis, but maybe whoever is there could actually help him. 

Reaching the seat in the middle of the room would have proved to be easier if there weren't steps leading down into the small dug out area. His feet refused to comply with the rules of one step per foot and his left foot went careering off the edge of the first step. It was only the metal claw that almost ripped through his shirt that stopped him plummeting head first into the steel coffee table ahead of him. He hung in  the air for a moment -  toes reaching backwards onto the purchase of the step behind and the metal gripping the back of his t-shirt, holding his weight  - before he lazily  slumped backwards into the grip, his feet giving out and his body beginning to slide down the cool metal arm attached to the claw. By the time he's resting against the machine, his head has cleared again and he turns slowly to pet the hand, murmu ring incoherent thoughts. He closes his eyes and presses into the cold arm before it hits him.

"Jarvis, how the fuck did you get DUM-E up here?  This is the residential area, the no DUM-E zone. You know this! " He pauses, waiting for a response and will never admit to the fear he feels when he gets nothing back.  "What's going on, are you ignoring me now? Have you decided you're smart enough to over rule me? Is this what they meant when they said that robots will one day rule the planet, because if this is it then deserting me is a pretty shit way to start!" He waits expectantly again, and for a few minutes all he can hear is the whirring of DUM-E who seems almost cat like as it responds to Tony's gentle stroking along the metal. "Jarvis?"

"Please forgive me, Sir. I was uploading all the necessary data. I trust DUM-E has helped?" The delightful British voice sounds out from behind and Tony doesn't bother turning. 

"Necessary data for what?"

"To aid you, Sir. Might I suggest we sit you on the couch, the position you are in could cause temporary damage to your back. DUM-E, you may release Mr. Stark's clothing now, I think you've held on long enough." At that, his body drops mercilessly to the ground, landing on his back and causing him to cough. He blinks as a shadow crosses his face, before squinting at what is above him.

"Jarvis?"


	2. Part Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jarvis can't make toast.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, I know this is going up quickly. It was for a prompt and I don't want to half finish it or make anon wait for the full thing.
> 
> What? I managed to get Clint to appear? Holy shit!

The Mark XLII stands above him, arm outstretched in a supportive gesture. When Tony doesn't move, the arm reaches down, fingers wriggling beneath his body to give the arms access to lift him. Another thing that he will never admit to is they way he squeals like a small child as he is hoisted into the air. His fingers grapple for something to hold onto on the sleek body, holding on tightly as the suits takes a few uncertain strides forwards, judging the weight and the pressure needed to carry Stark. Satisfied with the calculation, it moves forward again, walking carefully down the stairs and across to the couch where it deposits Tony a little less gracefully.

He sinks into the plush cushions there, curling his legs tight to his chest as he eyes the red and gold machine warily. "Jarvis, you had better give me some sort of fucking explanation or I'm assuming you've gone insane and ripping out your hard drives." The suit hesitates. "Sit down."

"I am nothing more than an empty suit, Sir, sitting would do me no benefit. " It's only then that he realises Jarvis's voice is only coming from the suit itself.

"Will it damage you? No. How do I know that? Because I built the both of you, and you standing there makes me feel queasy so please, Jarvis, sit." The suit moves quickly into a seated position opposite him on the curved sofa, and the blur of red makes his stomach churn again. "DUM-E, go find a bucket or something. Quickly. Bring it straight back." The robot doesn't move and Tony gets irritated. "Do you want me to bring the 'dunce' hat back, because I will. As soon as I can walk further than 6 feet on my own, you're getting the hat. Bring me a bucket whilst I pick a corner for you to play hell with." He turns back to Jarvis/Iron Man and sighs, eyes crinkling in pure confusion. "Start talking."

"About what, Sir?"

"Now is not the time to be sarcastic or awkward Jarvis, I want this str-" Without warning, more mess explodes from his mouth, the sticky liquid covering the thigh of the suit. "Shit. DUM-E, bring me a cloth too." He gets a whir in response and puts his hand to his head. "Is it Banner? Is he lurking somewhere? I said no one to come into the Tower."

"I'm afraid I am not following, Sir. Doctor Banner has not been able to access the Tower since your return."

"So who was it? Who put the IV in me and the fucking catheter, which I swear has ripped the tissue on my fucking dick. The towels, on my body. Who?"

"Ah, I understand, that was me Sir." He turns the head to face DUM-E as he appears through the door. Tony turns too, questioning silently whether it was right to refer to a robot as a 'he', then deciding it was easier. "Perhaps I could get you some coffee whilst we clean you up and then we can discuss it."

"Or let's discuss it now." Jarvis shakes his head, in as an amused way as an expressionless invention could get. "Walk me to the kitchen, but no picking me up this time!" He shuffles back as the arms reach for him instantaneously. His own fleshy fingers take hold of the offered ones and lifts himself to his feet, swaying for a moment as he begins the short trek to the kitchen bar across the room. The suit is solid next to him, walking steadily in time to Tony's staggered movements, both pausing as they reach DUM-E and Tony's free hand grasps the bucket from the claw and throwing the towels over his shoulder.

His head is spinning and his arms are aching and he's growing acutely aware of the sharp pains in various parts of his body as he throws himself into a chair in the kitchen. His vision is fading again and his head drops down to rest on the table. He can feel the drool trickling from the edge of his lips as his body slides against the table, gravity pulling him closer to the floor. By the time he forces his body back up into a sitting position, he can hear Jarvis's smooth voice calling his name in what could probably be described as distress. 3 separate pills are set neatly on the counter in front of him and a glass of cool water to the side, his hand immediately reaching across to grab them.

"Jarvis, talk to me. What's happened?" There's a moment of silence whilst Jarvis starts the coffee maker and reaches into a cupboard to take some bandages that are thrown at Tony. They bounce off his head, making him groan and Jarvis is immediately apologising.

"I am sorry Sir, the prototype is still having a few issues and at the present time, it is much more compatible with human controls as opposed to a computer. I had attempted to bandage a few of your wounds, however the suit was not nearly as helpful as I would have expected and I eventually gave up."

"You gave up? You're a computer Jarvis. I didn’t know computers could 'give up'." He reaches for the bandages himself, rolling up a leg on his sweatpants and grimacing at the first wound there. The area has clearly been kept clean, but it's oozing and the cut runs from half way up his shin to just below his ankle. A quick glance over suggests it was probably well over a centimetre deep when he was hit, now it is sticking, the skin cracking apart every time he moves. He unrolls the white material, beginning to bind his leg and concentrating on finding other injuries that need this attention.

"Your references to me as a computer today are a lot more regular than usual. Are you distressed or upset with me?"

"I just want to know what's going on. Why are you using a suit that doesn't work properly? If you want to be someone, pick someone like the Bleeding Edge armour, that's pretty sleek. You can move nicely about the house in that. Or the Modular armour, you could have rejigged the mods in the gauntlets for baking tools and baked me a cake. That would have been a much better wake up. For future reference, I like a nut cake. With toffee sauce."

"Unfortunately the other suits are either damaged or trapped at this moment Sir. Your swift re-entry into the Tower shook some foundations and trapped the suits that are residing in this building. Luckily only minor damage has been detected here. You and Butterfingers are currently clearing the debris, albeit slowly as each shift has to be calculated to ensure nothing falls. It will give you a nice summer project, Sir. The suits in Malibu were completely destroyed by the battle earlier this week."

"What battle earlier this- Jarvis, stop confusing me! You're wearing the suit to, what? Why? What battle means half my work is gone and if there is no one other than me and you here, who-" Tony pauses, his face a look of incredulity as he tries to piece things together. It should be so obvious, but his brain feels like mush and he slams his head back onto the table in a momentary sulk. Jarvis doesn't respond, only places a coffee in front of the shaggy haired person. "How long was I asleep?" His voice is distorted due to his lips being half pressed to the wood beneath his head.

"9 days, Sir." That made Tony's head shoot up. He blinks as the worlds spins around him, steadying himself against the table with one hand. "How was I asleep for 9 days? Okay, forget this, you had better start talking Jarvis. What happened, why was I asleep so long, why are you in the suit, this battle, explain. All of it."

Jarvis moved towards the toaster with two slices of bread and Tony swears the suit eyed it up warily. "Well, Sir, I would first like to emphasise the fact that due to limitation on power, I cannot uses the houses modifications whilst in the suit. All security systems are set and cannot be altered without me.

"Now, you were rather seriously injured after your battle in Las Vegas, between me and you we got you back to the Tower, however you were rather stubborn about not letting me take any charge of the flight pattern leaving us both in danger. At the last minute you passed out and I did not have time to rectify the problems ahead. Your crash landing certainly dealt you more damage than I expected. After your persistence of not allowing anyone in or out of the Tower, I had to find some way of getting you to a more suitable location where I could monitor and aid you and so I used the suit. I shall be using the suit for the foreseeable future as you displayed signs of needing physical help since the first day. As I was at blame for a few of your injuries I believed it was appropriate for me to be the one who helps." The toast pops, startling both parties within the room and Jarvis spends a moment trying to figure out where the fridge was from his new perspective of the room.

"Big thing, right in front of you buddy." Jarvis nods his thank you and sets about buttering the toast. It appears that when faced with more domestic tasks, Jarvis's concentration is a lot more limited. Tony mentally files it away for later consideration and study. "It's a guilty conscience thing then? So my computer has been physically looking after me. What if I had gone into cardiac arrest, would you have gone against my wishes and requested human help?"

"I was monitoring all your vitals, Sir and luckily there were no signs of serious trauma. You broke a finger, 3 toes and a couple of ribs. Your right shoulder was dislocated and you have a fractured elbow. Had any serious trauma have been apparent at the start, I would have immediately called in

help. Although, I was lucky in that a certain Mr. Barton is able to override most of my security codes and has a very good knowledge of the small corridors and ventilation systems within this building and so he has been visiting a lot. Chances are that he would have been here if you were to suffer."

A tinny sounding voice sounds out suddenly, somewhere within the room. "Be there in a minute." and moments later Clint is leaning against the doorframe, stretching out his taut muscles. "This is not my happy face, Jarvs." He scowls at the suit. "If you knew I was here, you should have told me."

"I did not mean to compromise your position, Sir. I was unsure of your intentions." Jarvis speaks at the same time as Tony looks up with an incredulous look on his face, scrunching up his nose. "Jarvs?"

"Nickname. I like it." Clint shrugs. Jarvis promptly places a plate in front of Tony and it takes all of his resolve not to make a noise. The toast is burned within an inch of it's life, the spread sitting heavy on top in chunks. Clint, however is a little less subtle. "That looks like someone threw it into Mordor. Come here, Jarvs." He sets about teaching Jarvis to use some of the kitchen appliances manually as he turns to Tony. "Look, it's not that I don't trust Jarvs, he's great- no, it's only a switch, just press it down- but he's not human. I needed to make- SHIT, fill that with water before you turn it on or you could burn it out- needed to make sure you were going to be okay. I wasn't going to intrude unless necessary. Plus, I clearly need to teach your computer how to be a housewife, and I can report back to the rest of the team. Are you telling me you seriously haven't wondered how the Big Guy hasn't smashed in the front door with his giant green fists yet?"

Tony doesn't answer, resting his head on the table for what feels like the millionth time today, just watches as Clint and Jarvis dance around the kitchen studying each piece of equipment in there. Clint throws three slices of bread into the toaster, adjusting the settings and throwing Tony's ruined food into the trash. He's showing Jarvis the sink. Seriously, the sink. "No, you just twist the- yeah, like that. How is a tap on the system, I was sure it was a release valve.", "Magnets.", "Oh." They move on to the oven and Clint decided to explain to Jarvis all the different controls. "But I'd suggest not using this one without Tony around to talk you through it." and Jarvis begins pushing various buttons on it, metal fingers mashing hard against the controls and Clint pulls him away before he can break it. The toast pops once more and he's there immediately spreading butter on the toast whilst it hot and letting it melt.

Turning to place it in front of the inventor behind him, he halts seeing the closed eyes and the steady rise and fall of Tony's chest. He sets the toast behind him, Jarvis being unusually quiet as he joins Clint. They watch him sleep peacefully for a while, before his body starts to convulse and they reach him as his eyes flash open, the whites only visible. He shudders, hitting the ground and another wave of sick wells up in his mouth. Clint rolls him onto his side, letting it run out onto the floor instead of choking and he turns to look at Jarvis.

"Panic attack, Agent Barton, no serious harm. However, might I suggest waking him and be careful, he is extremely handy with his fists when pulled from a deep sleep or an attack like this."

Clint drops his hands onto Tony's shoulders, shaking him roughly and whispering his name urgently. "C'mon Tony, you gotta snap out of this." He reaches for the water still on the table and throws it across Tony's face, bringing him straight back up to reality. Clint deflects a couple of blows, pinning Tony's wrists to the side and whispering comforting things to him. It doesn't take long before he's frowning up at Barton and shifting his wrists in the grip slightly, scrunching his nose again.

"Never suspected you'd be into sub/dom, Barton. I have to warn you though, I'm much more of a dom myself." Clint chuckled, exhaling in relief as he let go of Stark's wrists. A snarky Stark is an okay Stark.

"Made you some toast, Tin Man, come on." He helps Tony onto his feet again, setting him in the seat as soon as he notices the swaying. "Not so good on your feet yet, then." He turns to Jarvis as Tony tucks in to the food, barely managing one slice before he wretches it back up into the bucket that he'd taken from DUM-E. Neither Clint, nor Jarvis react, both aware of how tricky it's going to be to get Tony back to full health. Clint pats the suit shoulder with a grin. "I'll head off and file a report. I'll check back later." And he's gone.


	3. Part Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony freaks out at getting bathed by a robot and asks Clint too many questions.

 

Tony awakes in his bed again, this time with his head spinning faster than a CPU fan. There's a small splattering of sick on the pillow next to him when he opens his eyes and he breathes in, only to find it resting in the back of his throat as well. He splutters and gasps, sitting up sharply and letting out a cough. His eyes are watering and within moments, he's vomiting again, the pool settling between his legs and he grimaces, noticing there were no covers to contain it. A hand is on his arm, puling him from the bed and Tony lets himself be led to the en suite, practically throwing himself at the toilet as the next wave comes up. His mouth has a nasty taste, making him feel even worse and he holds onto the side of the rim as he presses his face further in. Hard fingers are slowly tracing circles on his back as he heaves and wretches.

He doesn't look up as he asks "what's wrong" quietly. Jarvis doesn't respond until he is sure Tony has lifted his head from the bowl long enough to concentrate.

"I do believe you have  Tuleremia , Sir. Symptoms are not pretty, however I have acquired an appropriate course of medication for you. Research over the past few days suggests that a canister was pressed into the damage on the suit and released a strain of the F. tulerensis in as an aerosol. The administration was too fast to stop."

"Of course it's biochemical fucking weaponry . Why else would I be this ill? " 

"I would also like to point out that the wounds on your stomach and right arm have now a few lesions due to the disease." Tony lifts the thin shirt and examines the areas not covered with bandages. He groans, seeing the glistening, yellow marks on his body. "That's fucking gross. I'm going to get a shower."

The few minutes that followed were definitely going to be some of the most traumatic of his life. Jarvis moved immediately, hand grabbing the shirt and attempting to pull it over Tony's head, resulting in a yelp and a movement that made the top rip. Tony frowns when he see's the rip through the eye of the Black Sabbath mask. "I liked that shirt." He barely has time to register what happening as the shirt drops from his outstretched hand, and the suit is lifting him into the air, fingers latching onto the ties on his sweats. He wriggles profusely, causing Jarvis to tighten the hold and Tony yells again, metal pressing into cuts and bruises that are scattered across his body. His thrashing hand catches the mask and the suit jerks so his hand does not break with the impact. Tony uses the change in position to twist his body out of the grip, and presses himself back against the shower screen, sinking down as he tries to catch his breath. He feels too weak to hold himself up and lets his body collapse to the side, fingers sliding against the tiles and his chest heaving.  "Getting stripped by a computer and a piece of armour is not fucking cool, Jarvis. I can handle this."

"Bullshit. Let him help." The voice is somewhere through the wall to his left and it takes him a moment to remember Barton's impulsive visits. "I'm not looking if that's what you're wondering, and I'm not helping either.  Jarvs told me to leave him to it and I'm happy to let him deal with a sniffly, naked Stark."

If he had any energy, Tony would have told him that he was not 'sniffly ' he was actually seriously ill, thank you very much, and he wouldn't care if Barton saw him naked. He always liked to show his assets off. Instead, he let out a pitiful whine, rolling onto his back. He tugged lightly at the bandages, pulling them off slowly and depositing them on the floor.  He heard taps running beside him, a nd strained his head slightly to see Ja rvis preparing a bath. 

Tony closes his eyes and lets the rest of the situation pan out, allowing the suit to do what it wants, but he has to remind himself to never let a robot wash his hair ever again. He's restraining himself from reaching up and checking that he has no bald patches as he hears Barton snickering; and although he's grateful for the banter that the human provides, he's a little disconcerted at the fact that he actually has no idea where the archer is. The snicker turns into a cackle that would put any witch to shame as he grapples with the flannel that Jarvis is pressing further down his body and howls  again, with an "I can do that bit" dropping from his lips.

He bats Jarvis's fingers away when he tries to help the injured man and goes to stand up, only to feel a searing pain across his stomach as the wound rips apart. The scream he lets out is wrecked with a sob and Clint is suddenly in the doorway again, grimacing at the sight in front of him. The blood looks worse as it mixes with the water, ribbons of red billowing against his skin.

"Agent Barton, I believe this is what we discussed." Was that worry in the computerized voice? He barely registers the human hands on his body as he drifts out of consciousness once more.

\-------------

This time, he's not dizzy as he wakes up, just lethargic. He can feel a light pressure on his belly, something moving against the skin and he looks down to see Clint wearing surgical gloves and with a curved needle in his hand. "For fucks sake I have got to stop fainting!." Tony's voice is stronger than last time too. "I close my eyes for 2 minutes and you already can't keep y our hands off me."

This doesn't even pull a smile from Clint, as he concentrates on his work of stitching the ripped skin back together. "It was longer than 2 minutes. We had to get you fixed up and Jarvis can't do this. It's too precise for a dysfunctional hunk of metal." They stay in silence again for a short while b efore Tony pipes up again.

"How come you always hear when we mention you, you just keep appearing out of nowhere?"

"I haven't left. I fill in reports using a tablet and send it off via email to Coulson. Fury reads it too."

"What  about a mission? "

"My mission is to ensure your safety right now."

"How come I haven't se-"

"I keep out of your way."

"How do you know about the  venti -"

"I'm not sleeping in the fucking walls, Tony, I got one of the spare rooms. And just because You can't see me, doesn't mean I'm crawling through a small tunnel when there's a perfectly acceptable room next door to where you are."

"Are you nesting?"

"...Maybe. On occasion."

"I told you.  no nesting in the Tower, I'm sick of finding piles of shit everywhere ."

"Whatever."

"If you're here, why does Jarvis have to cook for me?"

"Because he won't let me in the kitchen. He cooks my food too, which reminds me. Can you get him to stop leaving it on a mat outside my room. I'm not a dog, I can eat at the table."

"Can I-"

"Shut up! Seriously, all these questions and your head will explode. Besides, every time you speak, your stomach moves and I'm trying to make this neat here!" Tony takes that as a final warning and actually shuts up, leaving the marksman free to work. He uses the relaxed moment as an opportunity to look around the room properly. There are blankets and one of Barton's jackets on top of the cupboard in the alcove by the door and he shoots a glare down towards the blonde head; there are a few smashed items around the room, but any proper mess has been cleared away; there are a few red smudges across walls and the cream carpet that he is sure have come from him; the TV in the corner is on at the local news channel, his face adorning the screen every so often; Clint himself will definitely have to buy a new shirt because the stains in that one  will most definitely not come out easily.

Tony just stares for a minute, because "uh, Clint. You’re wearing normal clothes."

"No shit, Sherlock." That's new. Tony holds back a chuckle, because he's pretty sure they are his clothes, from his closet. "There, all done. How does that feel?"  He's wiping away any fluids left on the skin before moving away and depositing the gloves and wipes in a bag beside him.

"It's great, thanks." Tony looks up as Jarvis walks into the room, carrying two plates of food. The food is overcooked, but edible and they both smile gratefully at the suit before tucking into it.  Clint runs through a few things that both he and Jarvis had discussed and Tony's sense of 'what the fuck' returns. Clint is going to be sleeping in the same room as Tony to be there for any urgent assistance since it was clear that there were things that suit wouldn't be able to perform. It was built for battle, not for the kitchen or for proper medical help so they need human aid as well. Tony has to stay in bed for as long as they deem necessary, as he was clearly not in a fit enough state to be on his feet.  Clint wasn't allowed to intrude without being asked, or confirming it with Jarvis and only then if it is completely necessary. When Tony questions why, Clint shrugs and tells him how Jarvis was feeling guilt for not catching him before he went through the window, and because Tony had ordered no human interaction and those rules were already being disobeyed.

After a while, Clint leaves for his nest across the room, and Tony tries to frown at that but can't help smiling a little bit at the amount of care he was receiving from his own AI system. The suit comes over, pulling the blanket up to his chest and leans forwards slightly with the clear intention to "kiss" his forehead . Tony's mind suddenly kicks in, going into overload at knowing how the suit can malfunction, and true to it's form, it  headbut ts  the creator sending him out like a light.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is getting a lot longer than I expected.
> 
> Also, I want to include Barton a lot more, because there is a lot that Jarvis wouldn't be able to do.

**Author's Note:**

> I do have more to it, but it was turning into something too long for a one-shot so I thought I'd upload a bit of it now :)


End file.
